


Soft Watcher

by Apex54



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild spoilers for MAG 160, Tape Recorders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apex54/pseuds/Apex54
Summary: Not all who listen in are malevolent. Theyarestill being impolite.The tapes turn on at opportune times to show something, but they still seem to know beyond what they record. Because of this I've been thinking about when Martin greeted that one tape recorder in MAG 154 and asked it if it missed Jon. That little interaction really separated the tapes, as entities, from Jonah Magnus in my mind.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 13
Kudos: 138





	Soft Watcher

In a dark room, barely lightning-lit by the storm outside through the drawn curtains, a tape recorder clicks on. In the duffle bag it’s hiding in, there is certainly no light at all. And so, nothing filters in to observe it. Tape recorders don’t need much light to fulfill their purpose though, so on it went.

It is for this reason that, rather than recording the soft shapes that people and things become in dim lights, the torrent of rain outside, finds itself observed instead. Though the many barriers between itself and the outside muffles it, the soft crackle of the tape inside still takes that information in.

Muffling of sound works both ways in this particular circumstance, and with all the ruckus of the weather beyond the bedroom window, this tape recorder’s companions stay none the wiser to the voyeur in their midst.

The general ambiance follows in a similar pattern for several moments, such that it would be a shame to interrupt that consistency with intent. Despite this, the bed above the duffle beings to creak, and the moment changes as Jon starts to sit up, with his breathing just the slightest bit erratic.

He holds his breath in an attempt to wrangle it under control and lets it out. Still shaky, he reaches over and taps. “Martin” he says. So soft, that had the recorder been any deeper in the bag, it might’ve not picked up on it at all.

“Martin” he says again. “Are… are you awake?”

A low grumble of thunder answers in leu of the even-breathed Martin beside him. 

The bed creaks under a sudden shift in pressure and makes one final croak as Jon shifts his body off the bed and stands up. His footsteps plod on the wood like the water falling outdoors, and then grow even quieter. Until the sound of a door slowing opening, and then closing, leaves the room back as it was before he had left.

The tape recorder clicks off, leaving the room to its former mumbling silence.

* * *

The crunch of gravel doesn’t echo very far, especially when it is overshadowed by the rain pouring on his umbrella as if here were under a park fountain rather than the Scottish Highlands. It’s just too quiet to project anywhere, so the sound may reach his ears, but they won’t be reaching much farther.

How lucky then, for the tape recorder, that his pocket was well within range of anything interesting. So, it clicks on, and the buzzing of it is stifled by the fabric of his coat. It doesn’t evade notice this time around.

“What the- “Jon’s muffled voice says.

The world then gets just a little clearer, as he reaches and pulls the tape out.

He groans.

“Now what do _you_ want?” he half-snarls at the thing, then he turns it off.

It turns back on, and the world around it has lost its clarity, safely tucked back to its original hiding place. Jon’s footsteps have quickened. The crunching louder.

“Christ! If you insist on listening to what is supposed to be a _relaxing_ walk” he shouts between breaths, “then you can do it from inside my coat!”

It clicks off.

* * *

The tape starts up right as the front door opens, and Jon could’ve been choking for how hard he’s breathing as he stumbles in and shuts it. He shuffles for a moment, throwing his jacket on a hook by the door. His knees crash to the ground as he fumbles at his shoes and then peels his soaked socks off. The ruckus that he’s making doesn’t go uninterrupted for long as the door to the bedroom squeaks open.

“Jon” a voice calls from down the hall. “Is that you?”

“Oh” he coughs. “Yes, Martin, it’s just me.”

Martin’s sleepy, hesitant stroll then snaps into brisk strides, as he makes his way to the threshold. He’s kneeling down to Jon’s level as soon as they’re within arm’s reach of each other.

“God you’re soaked! What were you doing out there without the umbrella?!”

Jon’s head swivels to look back at the door for a moment, as if it weren’t there, and he could still see the outside.

“I think, we don’t…” he starts, before losing the rest of his words. He swallows, and then looks back at Martin before trying again. “I think we’ll have to look for it in the morning.”

Martin begins to scramble at that. “Wait! Is there something out - “

“No… no nothing like that. It’s nothing.” He takes a deep breath in, and lets it come out, shaky and heavy. “No one’s out there.”

A pause fills the room, and the patter of the rain brings itself to the foreground in the absence of conversation.

“Here” Martin stands up and brings Jon up with him. “Let’s get you dry.”

“…Ok”

Their footsteps fade down the hallway, and the tape, in contrast, stops rather abruptly.

* * *

The bedroom door creaks, and so does the duffel bag tape in its dutiful endeavor to record. Martin flicks on the light and casts himself into the room in search of something, leaving Jon at the doorframe. He ruffles around a bit before mumbling a small “Aha!” at finding what he was looking for.

“Good thing I brought my towel.” He says before going back over to where Jon is.

“Here, let me just- “ he goes to wrap the ratty thing around his neck, before covering and gently drying his hair.

And Jon mumbles a noise, the kind that sounds like it means thank you, but doesn’t phonetically resemble the words. Martin steps back, and Jon takes over. Then he lets it slip to the floor as he starts peeling the rain sticky fabric from himself.

“Oh right, sorry” Martin says, and he goes to sit on the bed and shifts around until he’s turned to face the wall.

“It’s, um, Martin it’s alright, you don’t have to do that.”

“Well Jon” he starts, snickering in the process “I can’t just turn around to watch you after making a show of looking away.”

Jon laughs in turn and sets his wet clothes in the old hamper in the corner. The conversation hovers in the air between them, like the afterimage of a light once it’s been turned off. He gets much louder as he reaches under the bed and pulls out his own bag of clothes.

The tape shuts off.

It turns back on right when he pulls the zipper back around and shoves it back next to Martin’s bag.

While Jon sorts himself out, Martin fidgets. Thumbs twiddling, he stays silent. Jon, however, isn’t offering anything to the conversation either. Instead, he finishes getting dressed and comes to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“What were you doing out there Jon? Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah” he says, and he pulls his legs up off the floor so that he can climb under the covers. “I mean, it was just supposed to be a walk, to clear my head and all that.”

Martin turns back around to face Jon but stays above the covers.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Jon chuckles a bit. “I tried, but… you looked peaceful. I didn’t, well-“ he scoots closer, resting his head next to Martin’s knee.

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Jon…” Martin says as he reaches his hand towards his face. “Ah wait a second.” and he starts to shuffle himself to the opening of the covers. “Wait, here, let me just get under the duvet.” And Jon lifts the covers up, allowing Martin to crawl into them.

And they settle. The bed sinks down, taking them along with it. He then reaches out and moves his hand to rest on Jon’s cheek.

“It wouldn’t have been a bother, you know” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I suppose not.”

The tape shuts off.

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
